Pearls
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: Finland decides to do something special for Sve's birthday. PWP, SuFin, wife fetish, Short, M for a reason, fluff, Yaoi. DL;DR. My first PWP in what seems like forever. How did all this plot find its way into my agenda? I may never know...


**~PEARLS~**  
>A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction*Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2011<br>_SwedenxFinland _***R18*  
>~COSTUME~SOFT ROMANTIC ROLEPLAY~FLUFF~ORAL~ INTERCRURAL SEX ~<strong>

…

_AN: so I realised I haven't written absolute blatant PWP for AGGGGEEESSSSS… and yesterday I got really bored so I sat down and I did. :D Review, if you gusta, please don't read if gay sex isn't your thing, and I don't own hetalia. ^^ yeap, p much. Enjoy!_

…**  
><strong>

Pearls…

I ran my fingers along the string, their shimmering whiteness forever symbolic of something chaste and sweet and innocent, before lifting them and securing the small silver clip around my neck. They glowed a little, and looked wonderful against my collarbone.

I rubbed the dip at the base of my throat and tipped my chin back to examine my jawline. It looked different, with the big clip on earnings attached to my earlobes, the soft white sheen of them complimenting my necklace elegantly, but I liked it. In the flattering golden light I looked well. My cheekbones graced with shimmering powder, my lips painted a soft champagne pink. I had even struggled with applying mascara and curling my hair, although it didn't do much considering how short it was. I managed to get a single, thick curl sweeping across my face, but that was about it. I frowned a little, leaning forward and without taking my eyes off my reflection and the eyelash threatening to fall into my eye, I hunted around the counter with fumbling fingers for a barrette. The one I found by the soap was also pearls and small, fake diamonds. I fixed it into the curl, and it sat handsomely.

And once that was done, I hummed in approval at myself and stepped back, turning to the Victoria's secret bag on the toilet and rustling through. The boxer shorts I was wearing did not go with the above shoulder arrangement, but the camisole and panties I had chosen did.

They too were a soft, feathery pink, the panties for all intensive purposes boyshorts with frills that flounced over to an almost rumpled cake-skirt effect, the camisole tying under what would be breasts and then joining the fun in a gauzy flirty float of cloth. I slipped it on over my bare chest, ruffling my hair just a little, and tied the skinny ribbon tight in a fancy bow. The boxers came off, the knickers came on, and I spent only a small moment getting my junk sorted in the crotchal zone and arranging the frills just so. Maybe they had been designed this way, but they sat very low on my hips, the v of my pubic bone a little bit bared over the elastic. I had small rolls cupcaking over the top, love handles, I think they are called, and made a short mental note to cut back on the liquorice ice cream. But I had no time to worry about it in this instance. Because the strappy ice-pink stilettos were waiting for me by the door, and I had to get them on too, before I could leave the safety of the bathroom. And the walk from here to the bed… well, I wasn't sure. That was going to make or break Berwald's birthday gift.

Wish me luck.

Getting the things on was surprisingly easy. I just… put them on my feet and buckled them up. But when I stood up off the edge of the bathtub, and nearly collapsed into a broken and flouncy heap, I wondered if perhaps I had made a very drastic mistake.

"Fucking shit!" I swore, silently of course because in there he was waiting, and grabbed the edge of the sink to keep me upright. "Holy fucking fuck on a cracker _shit_!"

Wincing, pulling unflattering faces and cursing everything from shoes to tile floors to animal shaped balloons, I made my way to the door, tried to fix my hair up a bit and get out of the awkward pose I found myself. It wasn't easy, but I managed, and scowling bitterly I grabbed the small stout bouquet of sweet scented pink roses I had waiting on the counter next to my mess of makeups.

I told myself to stop being angry, because now was not a time to fight or strike or snipe, and stood up straight as I could, finding a sort of stance, and squared my shoulders. I didn't bother with the deep breath crap, because I wasn't nervous or anything, just sort of conscious about standing like a total klutz with something up his ass. I did spare a moment though, to pull one last face and tug the knickers out of my butt-crack, before clicking open the door and stepping as confidently as I could through.

"Berwald?" I felt strange 'purring' like every single advice booklet had told me to, so I settled for a soft, almost embarrassingly shy inquiry, aimed at the unsuspecting man reading some sizeable novel or another in the bed.

"Y' remembered t' wipe the door when y' finished y' shower Ti-" he dropped his sentence when he looked up, jaw loosing a little. He seemed… surprised to see me.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Unimpressed, I tossed my curled bangs back and switched hips with a lazy rolling motion. "Turn on that lamp" I pointed to the lamp on his side table authoritively, "put the book away."

I had never seen him do as I told quite so fast. When the lamp was on, I hit the main switch by the ensuite door, and plunged the room into a warm, cosy light. It reflected on his glasses, winking sexily, and shifted a little when he removed them slow and set them aside in a suggestive, invitational gesture. Berwald only ever removed his glasses when he wanted some, and usually he announced it first, to make sure it was okay to do so, but not today, and the gesture made me suddenly much braver. I was convinced more than ever by this point to not let a single stupid pair of shoes ruin my perfect evening.

I barely even thought about walking before I realised I was doing it, not hobbling at all on my little strut and feeling a sudden spike in arousal and self esteem, when he sat forward, the ghost of a smile playing his lips, and offered his hand in incitement to come closer.

"Wow…" he had a dimple, shallow and traced in light, in his left cheek, and the most wonderful thing about it was that it was so subtle and so small that I no-one would have noticed except for me. Only me. It's my little thing and no-one else may see. "Is this f'r me?"

"Dunno." I took his offered hand with one of my own and with my other (the one holding the roses) pointed to the small indent. "Is this for me?"

It remained under my fingertip even when he caught himself smiling and returned his expression to the usual bland state, though his eyes glimmered still in a wonderful, lustful chaos.

"What?"

"Ohhh… you little cheater!" I bopped him over the head with the roses before casting them onto the bed, where they bounced and left a rail of petals over the rumpled sheets. "You know what."

An eyebrow arched in question, but the smile didn't return. It was only his eyes that gave him away, the subtle intricacies of indigo blue that once upon a time I would have found intimidating, or even terrifying. He blinked at me, and tugged imploringly on my arm.

"Does th's mean y'll be m' wife?"

"I'm not your wife!" I told him, glad for the low light because it hid the colouration in my cheeks. "Just… I'm not your wife!"

I wished I hadn't thrown the flowers away, because I wanted to hit him with them again. "Be quiet and enjoy your birthday present."

"Hmm…" he flicked his tongue briefly over his upper lip and pulled me onto the edge of the bed. "Y' look delicious…" fingers caressed my throat, playing with the perfect round pearls strung there.

"Oh?"

"M' sweet, sexy wife…"

"!" I hit him softly up the side of the head, ruffling his hair and receiving a haughty _'you can't deny the truth'_ look for my efforts. "I am not you wi-IFE!" I couldn't help myself but squeal and grab his head when he bit me, a gentle and disciplinary nip on the chord of my throat that I knew was going to blossom into a pale hickey.

"So l'ng as y'r wearing th'se panties, y're m' wife." A sneaky hand I hadn't even noticed slid around the apple of my ass, and administered a brief squeeze.

"S-Says who?"

"Says me."

And almost as though that was that, he pulled me backward onto the bed, and threw me over with such wonderful, typically concealed strength it made me dizzy. I bounced in the mattress, feeling my barrette slipping free, and without warning my leg was wrenched up, a warm mouth secured to the crook of my knee, and I whined in appreciation of the satin against such a wondrous erogenous zone.

"Ohhh~ okay, okay!" I ripped my fingers in the duvet and groped for the flowers again. "You win! I'm your wife!"

"Mm." I could feel his lips twitch against my skin. "Yeah…"

"But only for toni-oh!" I jerked my hips up when he spread my legs and hooked one stiletto off my left foot, his mouth gliding up the inside of my thigh. The shoe clattered on the floor when he cast it away, and I wiggled around impatiently, getting comfortable among pillows and ruffled sheets, while his hands roamed into the thick bows and frills of my panties. He rumpled them, like one might rumple particularly beautiful wavy hair, and walked his fingers slowly up to the band across my hips.

"Y' are th' most perfect wife a man could want. Y're pretty, and kind, and gentle…"

I blushed and turned my head to the side, face nudging the bouquet, clip on earrings pinching just a little. It wasn't that I disliked it when he said such loving, sweet things to me, it was more of a guilt thing. Because really, I didn't feel like any such the sort of what he reputed me as. I wasn't pretty at all, so much as short and whimpy looking. I wasn't kind, or gentle. I had a terrible temper, a tendency toward sulking, and took absolutely obscene pleasure in the sometimes a little undesirable. Death metal, for example… horror movies and gory things in general. The only time I felt anything even remotely like a soft, sweet person was when he held me like this, when he was loving me, slowly and leisurely and good.

"I'm not…" I mumbled, coiling a lock of hair around my finger and closing my eyes. "You know I'm not…"

"Y're loving and thoughtful and generous… and I love y'. So much."

"Mm.." I winced when a long index finger caught my panties, and tugged them down over one hip. The spot on my leg where he had previously been kissing cooled quickly when he moved his mouth to my hip instead, licking his lips and kissing the range of jutting bone that swelled beneath the soft stretch of pale skin. His fingers rubbed the small exposed patch of trimmed hair peaking above the band of my knickers, the heal of his palm digging softly into the base of my penis. I let my leg, the one he wasn't still pressing up with his shoulder and one arm, coil around his neck and upper body. My hands crept over my throat, two fingers dragging sensually over the junction of my neck and collar. Two more travelled down the shallow cleave of my breastbone. They were stopped by the neckline of my camisole, and rather than invade the cloth, and unwrap the gift I had carefully arranged just for him, I stroked my hand across the skin that I could touch, wiggling around and pulling no-doubt humiliating faces as he kissed from hip to stomach button, and skirted his tongue shyly inside. It tickled… but it didn't tickle in the usual ticklish way. It tickled in a sort of erotic tingling way on the inside of my thighs and at the nape of my neck. It was weird… but wonderful.

Sve's eroticism was subtle, and self assured. When anyone asked about it, he replied that in Swedish, sex was simply a number, his face not deviating at all from the normal, somewhat intimidating expression I had come to identify as his own. He always knew what to do though, he was deliciously sweet natured and mellow, and he had the sort of innocent, gentlemanly desires that some could call vanilla. Kissing, cuddling, missionary touching, he always totally drowned me in physical and emotional bliss, and I genuinely doubted that there was ever a moment in our union that his confidence in his ability wavered. Before we first made love, I would have thought that having the same old sex every few days would have become boring, or unsatisfying, but it was yet to evolve to that point. Sex with Sweden was satisfying on almost ever level imaginable, in every way. It was staple, it was wondrously meaningful, and I craved it like I craved liquorice. It was a perfect addiction. And what made it even better, even more secure, I knew that of I ever wanted anything, if I never needed a single thing changed, he would oblige.

God, I thought as he sucked a little on my stomach and my head tipped limply back, he was incredible. And boy, I was going to get a lot for this underwear. It was totally worth what I had spent for it. And I suspected there would be interest. After all, wife Tino was only his hugest fetish ever… I owed him, to indulge him every now and then was only a small sacrifice.

"Tell me if y' like it…" he spoke against my tummy, the vibrations tingling up my spine, and I nodded eagerly, breathing a soft moan. Sniffing and sitting up, my leg sliding down his shoulder and resting in the crook of his elbow, he regarded me for a moment, his lips wet and plump. I whined, and went to cover my face.

"Don't look!"

"But y're so beautiful…" he dropped both my legs and leaned forward. "Kiss me."

I lifted my arms to kiss him, curving my body up in request for him to touch beneath my singlet. His fingertips were a nice temperature, and they wandered up my sides and pushed the cloth up unhurriedly, short brief pecks against my mouth and to my jaw. His hair smelled like lilacs.

"Sve…" I felt myself quiver, strung tight against him and eager. "Tell me you love me."

"I love y'." he jabbed my waist and I squealed in shock, before dissolving into giggles while he carried on assaulting my neck and the side of my face. It was not fair of him, to tickle like that when_ he_ was the one who would end up begging for mercy if I could just reach him properly…

Harumphing, I tried to discover some sensitive point on his body. I groped him and found no purchase anywhere, rather being cast in a shrieking laughing pile onto the other side of the bed and being mounted across my hips, and kissed some more. When he pulled away, I was shaking, breathless and lit up, and he even smiled at me lovingly from above, combing his fingers through my tousled, uncurling now hair.

"M' lovely, honourable wife."

"Mm." I jerked my chest up imploringly. "That's right…" I wasn't so confident with wifely speech, and I worried for a split second about what I could possibly say that sounded sexy, as opposed to awkward and difficult. "I'm yours and… I want you. Do you want me?"

It was a bit of a loose guess, but it earned a reaction if a strange one.

"Sweetness, I want t' fuck you until y' cant walk straight." His breath tingled against my ear, and it was so completely contradictory to what I had assumed he deemed acceptable that I actually shivered. my breath caught in shock and some inane, unknown part of me thought that it would be a-ok to respond with "absolutely not! You're going to fuck me until _you_ cant walk straight."

I hadn't meant it to be sexy at all, so much as an indignant complaint about him always neglecting his own pleasure in stead of mine (it was his _birthday_, after all), but oh my god I think it broke him, because before I knew it he was naked and yanking my knickers right down. As soon as they were off from around my ankles, I spread my legs, a little bit delighted with the results.

"Y're such a good wife Tino. Opening y'r thighs like that." His smile like a treasure, glinting temptingly in the lamplight, he glided his flat palms up the inside of my open legs and I kissed the air cheekily, breaking into a broad smile afterwards when he pinched lightly along the skin partway up.

"Would you like to take off my singlet?"

"mm." he reached forward and tugged the ribbon loose, pushing the light breezy cloth up and pausing to fiddle with my pearls. "Th'se are lovely."

"I have other things you could play with."

"I know…" he proved it, too, by grabbing me intimately with his spare hand and bending to nose the rest of my camisole up my stomach. The sheets rustled as he shifted his weight, his mouth lowering over one of my nipples and kissing it sweetly. My erection in his other hand throbbed with a delectable urgency, and as his touching became stroking, his shoulders quivered a little in tension. I rubbed them, welcoming him on top of me, waiting with a cherished patience for him to concede and allow himself some pleasure as well. I felt precious and significant in his bed. Beloved. And the feeling of slowly progressing from bare skin against pyjamas to nakedness against nakedness once more was good and tremendous. Soon we were both nude, and he was loving me with a ferocity that I found not just alien but incredibly arousing. His hands exploring everywhere, my legs thrown across the small of his back and only one foot still hooking into a stiletto, I was totally ready to go. Grunting, I pushed him over, unhooking the pearls from around my neck in a moment of inspiration, and sliding down his body to the space between his legs. His erection, proud and handsome, twitched in front of me. My heart sped up, and my body jerked in sympathy for it. My fingers shock as I laced the necklace around the base loosely, two loops while he propped himself up to observe, and biting my lips I pulled it tight. Not too tight, mind. Just tight enough that the cool beads could grate against his hot, engorged cock, and maybe give a hint of a sensation yet unexplored. Slowly, with shaking hands, I pulled the string of pearls up a little, and then tugged them back down. It was fulfilling, to be finally having a personal moment with Sve's dick.

"Feel good?" I asked him, glancing up, and I supposed it must have because he certainly seemed happy about it, his face having taken on a handsome, excited quality.

"Yeah…"

"Great." I smiled, pulling on the beads and nudging his manhood against my cheek. "That's what I like to hear."

…

A blur of time, seconds spiralling to minutes spiralling to eternity later, found me totally wasted beneath him on the bed, sticky with sweat, my makeup running, and my body on absolute fire. He was rough with me, insanely rough with me, and I clutched the pearl necklace in a clawed hand like a lifeline, loosing myself in the wild intensity of his body grinding between my legs. The tip of his cock was pressing right against a good spot cruelly, but he made no move to actually penetrate me so much as blend our bodies together along the seams, chest to chest, mouth to mouth. I longed to feel his heat inside, but had to settle for the pressure of it sliding in the cleave of my ass, his teeth sinking into my chest and wrenching pleas of ecstasy from my throat. He played with my chest as though there should be breasts there, rubbing it and licking and sucking perfect circles of butterfly wing bruises all over. His forehead locked against my collar, and soon it and his lips were the only thing keeping me pinned down, hands sliding along my arms and securing his fingers laced with my own.

"Oh." He noticed the necklace and eased his movement. "Whoops, l't me just..."

"No!" panting heavily and right worked up I cut him off as he tried to extract them from my grip. "It's okay, I want…"

"I want y' to wear them. It's sexy."

And despite my protests, he shook out the pearls and sat back. They glistened with precum, and the hair on the back of my neck prickled.

"Go on."

Wincing, I lifted my chin and let him put them back on.

It was a surprise that he hadn't made me go back into the bathroom and tidy myself up again. My makeup had smeared, my hair was a mess… we were rolling around in crushed flowers and I felt like a car-crash, but something told me, the look in his eye, I suppose, that the way I was right now was to him one of the most wondrous things he had ever seen. Maybe he was still remembering me, how I had looked when I had first come out of that bathroom prim and proper, or maybe he was thinking of me in an even more submissive state (a wedding dress, or making him a sandwich, for example) but I doubted it. The clarity in his gaze was unmatched, and borderline terrifying. I touched the jewellery around my neck again and he nodded in approval, dropping his hands to my knees. Gently, he eased my legs spread and looked me over, drinking every part of me in with a hungry glint in his eyes.

"Hot."

"Don't say that." I complained, reaching for him and beckoning him back down. "Not right now…"

Strong arms were suddenly caging me in again, and speedy, glorious rutting was driving me to the brink of insanity while I couldn't even scream, his tongue dipping into my mouth and stealing all my words before travelling down my throat and coming to rest against it.

The friction of his stomach on my cock tempted me to cum, and today, maybe it was his coy teasing with the hips and mouth earlier, I wanted to cum in his mouth.

"B-Berwald." Gasping, barely thinking, I tied my fingers in his hair and pulled his face from the crook of my neck, "suck me off."

"Huh?"

"Use your mouth. Suck it…" urgently, I pushed him down and lifted my hips. "I'm sorry, I just need you to… oh… god yes… like that."

He was ducked between my thighs now, licking messily up the back of my cock and rubbing my testes with his thumbs.

"That's good. Suck it. Don't lick…"

Heading my breathy requests, he seized the base of it and took a good quarter of it right into his mouth. His tongue was wet and very hot, his lips with a slightly different texture. His fingers massaging were warm and incredible, and bit by bit I felt the muscles between my legs tightening, until I was almost crushing his skull between my thighs. My back was so agonizingly arched it was making me dizzy. Every soft suck was awe-inspiring. My toes (the ones not still in a shoe) curled tightly. And oh… oh godddd…

I gripped his head when I came, not just with my legs but my hands too, pulling his hair and shuddering so hard the bed head clattered on the wall not once but twice. I moaned, no specific words as much as a long blissful sound, and it was about thirty seconds afterwards, when the aftershocks were fading and I could catch my breath, that I realised I was still curled around my lovers head, and embarrassed, I loosed my legs so he could move again.

"Sorry!" I apologised, a little cold with anxiety. He licked his lips and smoothed his hair down, one hand shifting from its place around my thigh and moving to his own erection.

"S'okay." he kissed my lips again and touched all the way up one floppy leg. "Y' want me inside or…"

"Up to you." I told him, holding him closely around his shoulders and feeling contented and peaceful in the afterglow. "But use a condom."

"Got none." He told me with a fair-enough resolve. "Just pass the lube."

"But-"

"I won't go inside, don't worry." He looked to the side table, where there was lube, and reassured I wiggled from under him to lean and open the drawer. The heavy pink tube (cherry flavoured, of course) was in the top, next to some of my hats and a few pairs of boxer shorts.

"Here." I offered it over my shoulder, sliding the drawer shut and smoothing my ruffled hair. My voice was light and audibly smiling. It still felt good, my skin tingling and glowing with what felt like a soft white light. This was what I meant by sex with him being fulfilling. I walked with a spring in my step for days. "I'm not sure how much we have-oh."

He had replaced the lube bottle in my hand with my singlet top. I sat up and regarded it in puzzlement.

"Put it b'ck on." He clarified, opening the lube and squeezing some on his cock. "and lie d'wn on y'r side."

"uh, okay." I slipped the singlet back on and adjusted my necklace. "right." I chuckled knowingly and did as he said, making myself comfortable facing him.

"Is this another one of those 'it's sexier this way' things?"

It was a rhetorical question.

"Bend y' leg up here…" he deserted his cock and adjusted one of my legs, opening them up and moving forward a little, to rub lube on the inside of my thighs. "Hold m' neck."

I did so, and winced when he rubbed the cool, slick lubricant over the plumy skin there, sometimes pressing down in it and massaging a bit more deeply than usual. I frowned, but said nothing, slightly interested into where this might be going. It was a little bit sexy… kinda.

"When I say, squeeze y'r thighs tight."

"Okay…"

He kissed my forehead. "Love y'…"

And he coached my body into a position where he could slip his hard cock between my legs, and move his hips in a steady, smooth motion that mirrored love making. I inhaled sharply, the heat on such a wetted and sensitive part of my body pleasant and arousing.

"Squeeze."

I did so, and he lifted a leg up over my hips this time, to gain slightly better leverage.

As strange as this way of doing things was (and it was, it took me about a minute to understand that he was actually getting gratification from the soft slapping of dick through legs), I found it genuinely nice. Intimate, close. It freed his arms up to hug me tight, and his chin notched in my shoulder comfortably, so I could hear the soft groans and gasps of pleasure I usually missed from a distance. Turns out he was quite an audible fellow, and the reason he had asked me to take the lingerie back on was almost immediately obvious, when he was plucking at it urgently with his fingers, kissing the shoulder straps, and got so totally lost in the way the cloth dragged over his bare torso it was contagious. We were close, intensely close, and I was blissfully taken by him, totally reverently in awe. Suddenly I could see not just his sexuality, but his emotions, his attachments, his entire sensitive soul was vulnerable and readable, and I lay there and held him and smiled, just smiling, having to bite my lip to contain an almost stupid grin. My body moved with his, and a pronounced tingle between my legs implied that I was getting horny again, the grinding motion stimulating me to a semi-erect state of readiness. His thrusts were loosing a little rhythm, and his fabric twisting becoming grabby and impatient. Even his breathing, punctuated with a soft occasional '_Tino'_, was stressed.

I turned my head to kiss his face, willing him to climax just as wonderfully as I had, and whispered soft assurances of my love and devotion in his ear. Meanwhile, hot between my legs again, I was struggling to refrain from moaning too, digging my nails into his shoulders and drowning in his smell and the feeling of his body and everything, everywhere, holding me and loving me and needing me. And I needed him, and I wanted him. And I wanted to cum again. So I moved my hips as well, struggling with the clenched thighs and succeeding only in bringing him to release, his large frame quivering and a long, unfamiliar groan coming from deep in his chest. He clenched my body as tight as I think it was possible to hold anything, and I let him, hoping that this closeness would never end, grinning all over my face and totally, utterly lost in the wonderful, fulfilling fantasy, of being Sweden's wife.

* * *

><p><em>so jada, that was that then. carry on~<em>


End file.
